


Injuries

by SydAce



Series: Final Fantasy VII Oneshots/Drabbles/Short Series [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Comfort, Injury, Other, Reader Insert, Sprain, dislocation, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydAce/pseuds/SydAce
Summary: Your injuries lead you to want to quit.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Reader
Series: Final Fantasy VII Oneshots/Drabbles/Short Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751617
Kudos: 72





	Injuries

The never-ending itch was driving you insane. It was almost worse than the pain had you refused to wear the brace. Almost. With great determination, you snuck a pen down through the tight binding to scratch at your skin. The worse thing was that you’ve only been in your wrist brace since Friday. It was Monday.

“I see you’ve upgraded it.” You were using ace bandages before that, for about a week.

You glanced up at the newcomer. Sephiroth was leaning against the wall watching you furiously try to ease your irritated skin. Pulling the pen out, you gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, well. It’ll help stabilize it more, so I shouldn’t be a hindrance to you!”

“Don’t you write with that wrist?”

“Y-yes,” you agreed and cleared your throat. “I can still write with it.” You didn’t mention that your handwriting would look like shit and it’d hurt like hell to even hold a pen or pencil. Standing up from the desk, you grabbed the different forms that needed to be filled to report on the squadron Sephiroth was overseeing for the day. “Should we get going, General?”

Sephiroth watched you with speculation. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and strolled down the winding hallways of Shinra. You quickened your pace to match his long strides. Each step sent a vibration to your wrist. You bit your lip to keep yourself from whimpering in pain.

“Was your injury worsened after you stopped that trainee from falling?” Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder at you. His eyes dared you to try and lie to him.

Looking away you hummed. “A little.”

Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose and a harsh puff of air left him. “I still can’t believe you originally hurt yourself pulling out a binder.”

“It was a heavy binder,” you grumbled.

“It still shouldn’t have happened. Did the doctors look into why it happened?” Sephiroth questioned.

You brushed passed him into the training room where a few hopeful soldier candidates waited, completely avoiding the topic. Most of them were chattering amongst themselves. Excited whispers about the great hero of the Wutai war. Though, once the hero stepped in, they silenced themselves. One or two looked like they were about to piss themselves when Sephiroth scrutinized them under his harsh glare.

He made his way over towards the mounted tablet and swiped threw a series of screens. After a minute, he turned back to the candidates.

“Fight until you drop,” he stated simply before he made his way over to you.

The training room shifted into a battlefield. Monsters, machines, and warriors appeared before the candidates and attacked without mercy. You tried to take notes as quickly as possible. For a couple of minutes, you were able to.

Then, your hand went numb. The pen fell from your grip and onto the floor below you. You tried to move your fingers, but they weren’t responding like they should have. Just small, sporadic twitches.

“Here,” Sephiroth sounded quietly. He had bent down and picked up the pen. You grabbed it with your non-dominant hand started to write with that one. He watched you quietly. “What happened?”

You swallowed down your ping of panic. “Doctor said that my nerves might be damaged or constricted. I have to wait for the inflammation to go down to get tested. It caused my hand to go numb.” You were much slower writing with your non-dominant hand. Your handwriting looked like a child who was just learning how to write. The heat of shame rose up your neck and flooded your face. The notes were nearly illegible.

\--

You had started to carry around a tablet. That way you could type in the notes with either hand with relative ease. It was heavier than a notebook and pen, but not by much. This had to go on for about two months. Two months of staying in your wrist brace.

By then, your wrist was a raw red. Your doctor had you applying a wide variety of medicated lotion. Lotion for bacteria or fungus. Lotion for just dry skin. The doctor didn’t know if your skin was just breaking down, or if there was an actual infection. At this point, you didn’t care. You were just tired of this shit.

You were sitting in your car. With a sigh, you put your head against the steering wheel and just tried to focus on your breathing. After a minute or so, you went to grab your phone on the passenger seat. It wasn’t there. With a frown, you looked in front of the seat. It wasn’t there either. Figuring it would have had to have gone under the chair, you started to maneuver your non-injured arm.

It slithered under the seat, bending every which way. Then, your hand gripped the familiar casing of your phone. With a sigh of relief, you went to pull your arm back. It didn’t move.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself. Without realizing it, you had hyperextended your elbow. It couldn’t move from where it was. Then, your shoulder was also bent at an awkward angle. Your arm was completely stuck and the only form of communication was in your stuck hand. Tears started to build up in your eyes as you tried to move your body. It couldn’t with the steering wheel in the way.

At this point, tears were freely falling. You closed your eyes and slammed your head back against your seat. There was only one way for you to free yourself. Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax all of the muscles in your arms. Then, with a sharp jolt, you pulled your arm.

There was a snap. You screamed and dragged your dangling arm out from under the chair, your cellphone still in your hand. Sobs wracked your body. Your injured hand cradled your dislocated shoulder. With a shutter, you pushed your arm back into its socket.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cursed repeatedly, trying to relieve the pain that still shattered your composure. The pain stung. It was like electric jolts of energy shot up and down your arm. There were a million knives stabbing your shoulder. It wasn’t like the other times you dislocated your arm where it just hurt for a couple of hours. No, this was more intense. “Goddammit,” you wailed. Both of your arms hurt like hell.

\--

“What did you do now?”

You looked up at Sephiroth. The immeasurable pain radiated from both arms. Bags hung heavily under your eyes, telling of the unseen horrors of spending the night at a packed ER and getting no sleep. The weight of having no useable arms were light in comparison to Sephiroth’s gaze flickering back and forth between your constrictive wrist brace on one hand and a sling on the other.

“I’m sorry, General,” you whispered and hung your head in shame. “I’m useless to you, now.”

Sephiroth’s boots sunk heavily into the floor as he made his way towards you. He went around your desk and knelt in front of you. The hair that framed his face pooled on your legs. He looked up at you with great intensity.

“You are not useless to me. Don’t say that.”

“I can barely use a computer, let alone do anything else. I have to carry everything around in my sling because putting things in my pocket or using a bag is too difficult. My body is too pathetic to do anything. I can’t fulfill my duties as your assistant.” You paused and took out an envelope from your sling. “I have to quit.”

Sephiroth took the envelope containing your letter of resignation from your hands. He then tore it half and threw it in the waste bin. “You’re not quitting.”

“But--.”

“No buts,” Sephiroth stated firmly. “I can get by without you working, I did it before. Besides, this started as a workplace injury, so you have full immunity. I want you to stay, even if it’s to keep me company.” You sniffled a bit, feeling yourself about to cry. Sephiroth’s gaze softened and he gave you a rare smile. “Please stay.”

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a couple of injuries I had last year. Still recovering from the wrist sprain.


End file.
